The Land Before Time Onehalf
by naturalist
Summary: The tale of how the grownups found the Great Valley. NOW COMPLETE. Please R&R. Leave a rating in your review on the old scale of ten. Decimals accepted.
1. Prologue

**THE LAND BEFORE TIME 1/2**

**Prologue**

_My fellow writers, you are free to use any of my characters in your own fanfics. I will not say anything as obvious as that I don't own Grandpa ("Mr. Longneck"), Grandma, etc. Oops, did I just say it?_

_Key to the dinosaurs:_

_flat-teeth--herbivores_

_sharpteeth--predators, particularly Tyrannosaurus_

_sickleclaws--Deinonychus and relatives_

_thicknose--Pachyrhinosaurus_

_rainbowface--Troodon_

_bigmouth swimmer--Saurolophus, like Ducky_

_hollowhorn swimmer--Parasaurolophus_

_widebeak swimmer--Edmontosaurus_

_cresthead swimmer--Corythosaurus_

_twocrest swimmer--Lambeosaurus_

_flathead longneck--Apatosaurus_

_longsnout longneck--Diplodocus_

_skyreacher longneck--Brachiosaurus_

_threehorn--Triceratops_

_spikefrill--Styracosaurus_

_clubtail--Ankylosaurus_

_shieldback--Nodosaurus_

_tallcrest flyer--Pteranodon_

_longtail flyer--Rhamphorhynchus_

_spiketail--Stegosaurus_

_spikethumb--Iguanodon_

_bignose--Muttaburrasaurus_

_crestback--Ouranosaurus_

_runner--Hypsilophodon_

It has been a long-kept secret of the scientific community that dinosaurs (at least some of them) had intelligence like that of humans. The first proof of this ever found was a thick layer of Cretaceous rock with strange symbols engraved on it. Eventually the symbols were interpreted as a language, and the scientists, who can decipher any engraved symbols (perhaps with the exception of such symbols as "High Risk Area") given enough time and more than enough money, managed to interpret this language, revealing the following fascinating story.

_Journey to the Great Valley_

A history of the great farwalk

written from eyewitness accounts

written with flint on sandstone by:

Robert P. Thicknose

with:

Altair Rainbowface

Vega Rainbowface

In the year of the dying tree-stars, many herds of flat-teeth were gathered at a place called the Farwalkers' Corridor. There were also many lone dinosaurs. I, Robert P. Thicknose, was one of them.

Most of my kind live far in the north where the white ground-sparkles are common, but when I was young--too young to remember--my father was banished from the herd for the trifling offense of spending too much time talking with rainbowfaces instead of helping to defend the herd from sharpteeth. Or so my mother said. Anyway, he struck out towards the south in the company of my mother and me. My earliest personal memories are of the Great Valley, a land filled with treestars and fresh water, and protected from sharpteeth by a great rock wall.

I was very shy as a youngster, for there were no other thicknoses for me to play with, but I listened to my parents--and visiting farwalkers--telling tales of what lay beyond the Valley--and took in everything.

One day a sky-spark struck a tree in the Valley and set it on fire. My parents fled the Valley after the great--what do the farwalkers call it?--inferno that followed. But I stayed, used what wits I had to eke out a living, and stayed for many years until a very large flying rock struck so near the Valley that everything I could see was destroyed. I escaped towards the East, towards the Known Beyond, and lived as a farwalker for many years until finally a rainbowface--I have always been friendly to them--brought me news that the home of my youth was now an oasis of green in a world of brown. This particular rainbowface's name was Altair, and he is with me as I write. He always calls me a "Portly Pachyrhinosaur", whatever that means (I never cared to ask.) So I started my farwalk back to the Great Valley, and on the way ended up at this place, the Farwalkers' Corridor, which I knew very well.

The herds all paid attention only to their own kind, or, in rainbowface talk, "species." The most isolationist of all the species were the threehorns, and next to them the clubtails.

The herds had stopped at the Farwalkers' Corridor to hatch their eggs. All different kinds of swimming landwalkers: bigmouths, hollowhorns, widebeaks, crestheads, etc.; longnecks of different sorts, from flathead to longsnout to skyreacher; threehorns, flyers, and many other kinds of creature were gathered here.

The herds continued to travel down the Farwalkers' Corridor until one day the biggest earthshake I have ever experienced jolted the land. It pushed up towers of rock, removed cliffs, and created a huge ditch, laying the Big Underground open and killing many. A few brave dinosaurs ventured down there and never returned.

This earthshake separated many of the parents from their children, and once it became clear to them that there was no way to reach their families from across the gorge, the adults sadly went on their way. Some flyers tried to find their yet-unable-to-fly children by flying across to the other side of the gorge, yet for the most part they failed, and were forced to continue the journey with heavy hearts.

It is of this great journey that I, Robert P. Thicknose, will now write a history, and hopefully it will make interesting reading for those privileged few who learn how to read. I have striven to make it sound as much like a bedtime tale as possible, but my rainbowface assistants, Altair and Vega, want it to be a very accurate and detailed history: all facts and no story. That was not the way of my father, so I do not know how to do that. But anyway, whoever reads this, I hope that you will not think too poorly of my writing skills.


	2. The Departure

**Chapter I: The Departure**

"Where's Littlefoot?" cried an elderly male flathead longneck.

"I don't know!" replied his equally worried mate. "Last I saw him he was with Tina."

These two longnecks were the grandparents of a young longneck named Littlefoot, who in times to come would be famous as an adventurer--it was once my fortune to share in one of these adventures. Tina was their daughter, Littlefoot's mother. Littlefoot told me how he was with his mother when she died of her injuries after bravely protecting him from a sharptooth, and how she told him that she would always be with him.

"Daddy! Mama!" cried a young female threehorn.

"Cera!" cried her father on the other side of the gorge (my side).

"Stay right there!" I have also come to know this Cera. She reminds me so much of my mother.

That night, however, Cera slipped off to find a warmer sleeping place, or so she told me, and when she returned to her place on the gorge, her father was gone, having concluded that a sharptooth had taken her, and also gone were her mother, her two sisters Tricia and Agatha, and her only brother Sean, who had looked across at her from the gorge's other side.

One by one the adults gave up on their children on the canyon's other side, and slowly went on their way to the Great Valley with those of their children who were still with them.

First to go were the threehorns, followed by the clubtails. Then went the widebeak swimmers, the longnecks, and finally the flyers.

With them went the sharpteeth, especially the tall ones with two foreclaws. It seemed that every day the sharpteeth claimed a new victim. Even I, Robert P. Thicknose, was attacked by one, but managed to fend it off by knocking it out with a big boulder.

In the minds of the two old flathead longnecks, so many questions arose. Why did the herds invite sharpteeth by sticking with their own kinds in tiny little groups? Wouldn't it be better to join up and form one superherd?

But the other kinds were more preoccupied with immediate survival. The herds managed to cover at most two miles a day, crossing hot deserts and waterless rock wastelands, but the sharpteeth easily kept pace, and every day I heard a terrifying roar and an agonized bellow talkback across the open space.

After a week, the herds were just fourteen miles closer to the Great Valley when they were hit by a child-shake, or "aftershock" as the farwalkers call it, of the huge earthshake that had separated the families. There had been many child-shakes since, but this one was the biggest yet. A few were killed, but not many.

After the shaking had stopped, my friend Vega heard the old threehorn groaning for Cera, and (quite irrationally) blaming the longneck who had been seen rescuing her during the big earthshake and setting her on the wrong side of the big ditch. He was some distance away from his herd, and never saw the huge sharptooth sneaking up behind him.


	3. Longneck and Threehorn

**Chapter II: Longneck and Threehorn**

The sharptooth knew better than to roar. He was a _Tyrannosaurus_, or twoclaw, and these, being so slow, are ambush predators. Too wrapped up in his own sorrow, old Threehorn continued to groan.

Suddenly he felt the sharptooth's hot breath, and scrambled to his feet, but too late to prevent the sharptooth's bite. Fortunately for the threehorn, the sharptooth had not counted on his prey moving away, and the bite missed the spine and vital organs.

Threehorn bellowed for assistance, but then remembered that his herd was out of earshot--he had, after all, moved as far away from them as possible. He gritted his teeth and faced the sharptooth.

The sharptooth was a veteran hunter. He stepped back a bit as if hesitating. Threehorn needed no more. He charged.

The sharptooth stood stock still, then suddenly stepped aside and delivered a terrible kick to Threehorn's side. This knocked the wind out of him, and the sharptooth moved in for the kill.

Then...

_CRACK!_

A long tail whipped out and slapped itself onto the sharptooth's face. Down fell the hunter.

But he recovered suddenly and launched himself at the neck of his new attacker, none other than the old male flathead, the grandfather of Littlefoot. He never got there, for a second long tail was thrust out and barred his way. He ran full force into it and went tumbling. His eyes were closed.

When he opened them it was to see two huge longnecks standing over him. He knew that this was one too many, so slowly got to his feet, being careful to keep his tail towards the herbivores, and slunk away.

All this time Threehorn had been watching helpless with mouth wide open, and not just because he was gasping for breath.

"Th-th-thanks," stammered Threehorn.

"You're welcome," replied the female longneck.

The longnecks then explained to Threehorn the advantages of a large, multispecies herd. But all they could get from the threehorn, who was rapidly recovering his breath and pride now, was a snobbish, "Threehorns never mix with laaaahngnecks."

That night, Threehorn's mate asked him, "What's wrong, dear? You look even sadder than you did this morning."

"As much as I hate to admit it," faltered Threehorn, "I owe my life to a couple of longnecks."


	4. A New Idea

**Chapter III: A New Idea**

"Wow!" exclaimed all the children in unison. "Longnecks?"

Threehorn then stammered out the whole story, including the longnecks' idea of a multispecies herd.

"A many-kind herd?" wondered Sean.

Threehorn started a low-voiced grumbling of which his family could understand only one word, "longnecks."

"But Otis told me that he saw a longneck rescuing Cera during the big earthshake," ventured Sean. Otis was a young male of Sean's age, and they had been close friends, but he and his parents had run away from the herd during one of the child-shakes, and nobody knew where they were now.

Threehorn stopped his grumbling and turned away, not wanting his family to see the tears that were coming to his eyes.

"There, there, dear," said Mrs. Threehorn kindly.

"Dad, those longnecks had a point. We would be safer in a bigger herd," said Sean.

"Flatheads having a _point!_ Hmph!" snorted Threehorn. "With their small brains!"

"But look what happened to my uncles, Dad!" said Sean. "They had their own herds of six and eight, and what do the sickleclaws do but drop down on them from cliffs? They fought well, but there were just too many of those confounded sharpteeth! _Six! Eight! _

Ha!"

"Hmph!" said Threehorn, but after a while he consented to join the longnecks' "many-kind" herd, and dispatched Sean to tell them. "Both are gray, but one has a whitish stripe down his neck, and the other has a brown one down hers."

"You're the son of that threehorn we saved?" asked Grandpa.

After Sean had delivered his message, Grandma said, "Would you be kind enough to ask your father for us to tell other herds about the idea?"

So Sean delivered the longnecks' message, and Threehorn grudgingly agreed. He it was who came to me, Robert P. Thicknose, and told me about the idea. I am sure that, like me, the other herds figured "if it's good enough for a threehorn, it's good enough for me!"

Thus the Longnecks and Threehorns went from herd to herd spreading the idea. Those who were interested were asked to come to the tallest tree on the night of the round great night-circle.


	5. The Farwalk Starts

**Chapter IV: The Farwalk Starts**

Dinosaurs of all kinds, from skyreacher longnecks to relatively small rainbowfaces, gathered by the tallest tree as appointed, on the night of the round great night-circle.

Once the herds were all gathered, Grandpa began:

"We are gathered here tonight..."

"Cut it," snorted Threehorn. "Get to business already."

"Huh? Oh, yes," said the old longneck. "As you, my fellow flat-teeth, know too well, sharpteeth stalk us relentlessly, finding it easy to pick us off because our herds are so small, and also because they know that they must overcome only one kind's defense."

A battle-scarred clubtail snorted, "My kind's defense is quite enough for me."

"Now, now, Mr. Clubtail, if your herd was larger, I think that your scars would be fewer."

Clubtail said, "Hm!" but nothing more.

Grandpa Longneck returned to his speech. "I and my mate have since realized that the best solution to this problem is to gather all the flat-teeth into one large herd. Now, Mr. Threehorn, if you would please tell our friends about the rules of our herd."

Threehorn bellowed:

"First, all herd members must help the other herd members if there is need, regardless of kind.

Second, Mr. John Threehorn--that's me--, Mr. Kenneth Longneck, and Mrs. Miriam Longneck (grumble) shall preside over the herd.

Third, each member of the herd has an equal say during the council, during which Mr. Threehorn, Mr. Longneck, and Mrs. Longneck shall put forth their views on issues of the herd, and other members shall also voice their views, and finally, the herd shall vote on these issues. To vote, a herd member must pick up a stone and place it in front of the member whose view he supports.

Fourth, once the herd reaches the Great Valley, the council shall not cease to exist."

Grandma added, "Those of you who wish to join the herd, please gather around me. Those of you who do not, you are free to continue your migration with those of your kind, or alone as the case may be. Who comes to the Great Valley with Longneck and Threehorn?"

Three-fourths of the dinosaurs present gathered round the old female, while the other one-fourth moved away.

All told, the herd was 150 members strong now, and I, Robert P. Thicknose, was one of these members.

On the morrow, the 150 dinosaurs started on the long and perilous journey west. An early morning child-shake made sure that the farwalk started before it was intended to, but anyway, there I was, marching along in the midst of many different kinds of dinosaurs, between a shieldback and a spikethumb.

"Do you think this big herd was a good idea?" the shieldback asked me.

"I don't know. It does protect us from being food, but then again it will be harder to find food for everybody."

"I'll risk that," said the spikethumb. "I barely escaped from a bunch of sickleclaws last week."

"We'll rest here for the night!" sounded Threehorn's distant voice an eternity later.

So on we went for days, sometimes finding lots of food, sometimes finding none. Our journey across the Burning Sand was terrible: no food, no water, and lots of scaly biting worms--snakes, as the farwalkers say--that could kill a longneck in two hours just by biting it once. Five of our herd were killed by these, and nine more succumbed to the heat and lack of nourishment.

But the Herd's most trying moment was yet to come.


	6. Pterano

**Chapter V: Pterano**

We had at last succeeded at crossing the Burning Sand, and it was early morning. I had risen before most of the others, and made my way to the front of the herd to find Threehorn and the Longnecks talking with a magnificent-looking tallcrest flyer.

"I wish to join _this _herd," said the flyer.

"Then these are the rules," said Grandpa, and he proceeded to outline the laws that had earlier been shouted out by Threehorn.

The flyer apparently didn't like the laws, for I saw his eyes narrow and his expression melt into a slight frown, but he only said, "Understood."

"Name please?" asked Grandma.

"Pterano Tallcreston," said the flyer. "My sister is, I believe, a member of this herd. She flew out and told me about it last night. Also how she was separated from my poor dear nephew Petrie. I used to live near here, searching for (here his eyes shifted) _pretty little rocks._"

In years after I would find out more about Pterano and his "pretty little rocks." But that is told of in another place.

At any rate, not long after he joined the herd, Pterano, with his magnetic personality, began to draw some of the Herd's younger members. Spikefrills, clubtails, hollowhorns, crestbacks, threehorns...for some reason they believed him when he said that he was by far a better leader than Threehorn or even the Longnecks. They were ready to do anything he said, and some never did anything without consulting him first. Of course this made Pterano's already big ego even larger.

I told my friends Shieldback and Spikethumb about Pterano, and both, after they saw him, said that they thought him quite dangerous.

One night at the council, after the usual reports and complaints, a quite unusual one was registered.

A female hollowhorn cried out that her mate had been killed by a skyreacher longneck, and that she wanted justice.

"How do you know that it was Sequoyah?" asked Grandma, for that was the accused longneck's name.

"How do I know?" cried out the hollowhorn. "Because I saw it happen. My mate was in a good spot at the watering hole, and what does Sequoyah do but come up behind him and hit him with his tail. My poor husband goes flying through the air, hits a sharp rock in the middle of the water, and disappears into it never to come out again. All the time the murderer is standing next to me drinking as if nothing happened!"

"Were there any witnesses?" asked Grandpa.

Several dinosaurs came forward. One of them was that clubtail who had spoken out on the night the herd was formed. Each gave a matching account.

"Now we must decide what punishment to give him," said Threehorn.

"Punishment?" said Pterano. "Why, there is only one punishment for murder. It is _death!_"

Then, before the stunned eyes of the Herd, Pterano flew straight toward Sequoyah and drove his beak through the long neck.

Most of the herd was silent, horrified as Sequoyah gurgled, groaned and expired, but Pterano's followers cheered, calling him "the Avenger," and the hollowhorn cheered with them.

"How dare he!" began Threehorn, and started towards Pterano to see if the flyer could get his beak into _his _neck.

"Now, now, Mr. Threehorn," said Grandpa. "Sequoyah committed a terrible crime, and Pterano was right, death should be the only punishment for murder. Still, Pterano, you should have waited for the sentence before you volunteered as executioner."

The bloody-beaked flyer said nothing, only stood there still and haughty.

Shieldback and Spikethumb expressed their disgust to me. "Who knows what he'll do in the future?" they said.


	7. The Messengers

**Chapter VI: The Messengers**

I had not seen either of my rainbowface friends since the beginning of the journey, so imagine my surprise when I saw Vega talking with no less than the herd's leaders!

She had brought news of the children, she said. Littlefoot, together with Cera, Petrie, Ducky, and a hatchling spiketail, was fine and making his own way to the Great Valley. This news cheered the herd's leaders immensely.

"Why trust a landwalker to bring news of someone on the other side of the gorge?" snorted Pterano. "Neither I nor any of the flyers have seen these children!"

"Yeah!" said about twenty voices in unison.

"How do you know?" asked Grandpa. (Threehorn was absent, having decided to spend the day with his mate and children.)

"That would be telling, wouldn't it?" said Vega. "But I speak the truth, and I think that the possibility that you will see the children again alive is very high."

A runner went to tell Threehorn the news, but he refused to believe it. However, his family did.

Of course, I, Robert P. Thicknose, was happy to see my mysterious friend, though Altair met me before she did, and we all started an interesting discussion on the strange healing properties of plants like the night flower and lifeleaf.

Sequoyah's death was a hot topic at the council that night, and only one vote saved Pterano from banishment. The reason, I believe, was that one of his followers, when bringing his rock to the vote, sneakily split it in two by slamming it onto the pile against a particularly sharp stone, thereby splitting it in two and causing two votes, not one, to be registered for Pterano's cause. Altair warned that if he was not banished immediately, Pterano would cause much trouble at a date far in the future, but it seemed that many dared not vote against Pterano lest they should find his dagger-beak in _their _necks.

The next morning Altair and Vega were gone. Some herd members who stayed up late said that there had been two especially bright shooting stars that night.

I was granted permission to speak in front of the herd, and warned them that they were coming to sharptooth-infested territory, telling them to be on their guard.


	8. Sharptooth

**Chapter VII: Sharptooth**

We marched through the land for three days without incident, and the herd began to lower their guard. Then one day a runner, who served as a scout, disappeared mysteriously, and the next day was followed by a bignose.

So a group of threehorns took over scouting duties, and one returned to the herd bleeding. He reported that there was a large sharptooth, not a twoclaw but a scrapebiter or, in rainbowface talk, _Allosaurus_, which had attacked him. Instead of fighting he had run to tell the herd.

There was no need for this, for not long after the sharptooth himself appeared. Ignoring the wounded threehorn, he suddenly drove his head downward and crunched right through a spiketail's backplates. The agonized spiketail fell to the ground, and the sharptooth quickly ended his suffering.

"Where's Pterano when we need him?" said Clubtail sarcastically.

Some of the dinosaurs began to scatter, but Threehorn called, "No! _FIGHT!_" and served as an example by charging straight towards the sharptooth.

This sharptooth was younger and less experienced than the one who had nearly killed Threehorn in the Farwalkers' Corridor. He did not step aside, but merely thrust his head forward and roared, confronting Threehorn with two tooth-filled jaws.

But that didn't stop Threehorn. He simply swerved to the side a little and caught the sharptooth in the leg. The sharptooth howled with pain and fury, and returned the favor with his claws.

Then I, Robert P. Thicknose, charged toward the sharptooth and hit him in the other leg. Once I had hit him I did not let up, but continued pushing, and soon the sharptooth lost his balance. I barely had time to get out of the way before the great bulk toppled onto the ground.

Clubtail stepped up and hit the sharptooth with several strong blows. The sharptooth snarled, kicked him away with a blow that would have felled a longneck, got to his feet, and was felled by a longneck. It was a longsnout, who didn't whip his tail out in the flathead fashion, but instead curled it around the sharptooth's neck and tipped him against a large boulder. In after years I met a longsnout named Doc who was a master of this tail-curling tactic.

The sharptooth rose to his feet and let out a terrifying roar. It turned out to be a call for assistance, which I found out as soon as four more of his kind appeared.

One rammed the longsnout to the ground and tore his neck open, while another engaged Threehorn and Clubtail. The first attacked me, Robert P. Thicknose, while yet another chased a spiketail family and the fifth went after Grandpa and Grandma. All seemed lost for us.

Then my friend Spikethumb snuck around to one sharptooth's back and drove his spike into the tail, opening a large scrape. It just so happened that this was the sharptooth who was attacking me, Robert P. Thicknose. Taking the opportunity I rammed him hard, knocking him down, and a skyreacher longneck killed him by the simple expedient of crushing him with his forefeet.

Threehorn and Clubtail were slowly pushing their sharptooth back, until the predator gathered courage and charged forwards, deepening Threehorn's wound with a foreclaw. Clubtail, being covered with armor, had little to fear from tooth and claw, but another kick from the sharptooth sent him tumbling.

Even the swimmers tried to help. A twocrest used his tail to slap that sharptooth's leg. The sharptooth snapped at him, only to be laid out by a flathead's tail, and Clubtail returned and pounded him to death.

The longsnout's killer, the biggest of the sharpteeth, seized Clubtail in his jaws and lifted him up, ready to dash him against a boulder. But a flathead slapped his tail against the sharptooth's face. The hunter dropped Clubtail, who fell onto the longsnout's carcass, which made a fine if gruesome cushion. Threehorn drove his horns into the sharptooth, who fell to the ground, then made sure by delivering a blow to the neck area.

The spiketail family were doing well against their sharptooth. Only the mother was even touched, while the sharptooth had scars in several places. He roared angrily before driving his head downward to try and defeat the father. The spiketail turned round and waited for just the right moment, then flicked his tail upward and opened four holes in the sharptooth's throat. The sharptooth's roars changed to wheezes, then the predator toppled down dead.

The Longnecks had two tails between them, while their sharptooth had only one pair of jaws. Time after time their tails knocked the carnivore down. Finally the sharptooth changed his tactics. While still lying on the ground, he gave Grandma a hefty kick which laid her out on the ground, then started to hack at Grandpa's neck with his upper jaw. The flathead was starting to lose ground when suddenly a spikefrill smashed into the predator's leg, wounding it. The sharptooth angrily turned on the spikefrill only to be laid out once again by the longneck's tail. Clubtail hit the sharptooth hard on the chest several times, breaking ribs and puncturing the lung.

Then Pterano appeared. He dove straight for the sharptooth and buried his beak in its neck. His followers cheered.


	9. The Split

**Chapter VIII: The Split**

"Quit cheering!" I said, I fear, a bit too loudly. "That sharptooth was dead already when that flyer hit him!"

"WHAT?" said the herd in unison.

I then explained it in a very technical way which I will not bore you with here. "He knew it, and after hiding in a tree for the duration of the battle he came out and took the credit!"

"Bah!" snorted Threehorn. "That useless flyer!"

"Bah!" snorted Pterano. "These useless unbelievers!"

Pterano's followers refused to believe me. Some said that they would rather leave the herd than listen to such nonsense.

"Members of the Great Valley Herd, choose," shouted Pterano. "Will you follow me, who knows almost all there is to know (here I lost my temper and ran at Pterano, but Shieldback stopped me) or these small-brained flatheads and this stupid, impulsive threehorn?"

Here is where Shieldback had to stop Threehorn from killing Pterano on the spot.

"Yes, this stupid, impulsive threehorn," said Pterano.

"Thicknose tells us," said Mrs. Bigmouth, mother of Ducky, "that you hid in a tree while the rest of us were fighting the sharpteeth!"

"No, I was...um...er...scouting to see if there were any more. Then I came back just in time to save Spikefrill there."

Here Spikefrill rolled his eyes so hard I almost expected them to fly away.

"Why do you say that I was hiding in a tree?" said Pterano to me angrily.

"Why? Well, after I knocked that sharptooth down after Spikethumb scratched his tail, I saw your crest poking out of one. That one over there."

"Slander!" shouted Pterano. "You believe me, don't you Pteri?" (This was addressed to Mrs. Flyer, who was Pterano's sister and the mother of a certain Petrie.)

"I want to believe you," said Pteri, "but Thicknose never lies." (How I wish that was true.)

"What about you, Ramfo?" asked Pterano. "Surely you believe me." (This was addressed to a longtail flyer, Pterano's best friend and the brother of a certain Rinkus who I was destined to hear about eventually.)

"Of course I believe you, Pterano," said Ramfo, "even though I also saw your crest poking out of that tree."

Pterano hit Ramfo across the face with his wing, cleared his throat and said, "Anyhow, who comes with me? I know a shortcut to the Great Valley."

All of Pterano's followers, and some doubting minds, followed Pterano away from the herd. Little did we know what would happen as a consequence of Pterano's "shortcut."


	10. Longneck Rock

**Chapter IX: Longneck Rock**

"This is serious, Longneck," said Threehorn. "Pterano will lead those poor creatures to their deaths!"

"Since when were you so worried about other kinds?" snorted Clubtail.

Threehorn growled, but when he noticed that the Longnecks had their tails lifted in attack position, he thought better of it and merely announced that "Laaaaaahngneck Rock" was near.

Our herd was now 95 members strong; some had died on the journey, while others had deserted with Pterano. So off we went, most of us glad to be rid of Pterano. Even Pteri felt that we were better off without him.

We thought that the sharpteeth we had killed were an entire pack, but unfortunately, we were wrong.

As we marched on, following the course of a river, we noticed that some herd members who marched in the rear were disappearing, while others marched with deep wounds. So we sent Sean Threehorn, who was a strong teenager on the verge of adulthood, to the rear of the herd to watch for sharpteeth.

The morning after this, I saw him running to the front of the herd with clawmarks down his side. Breathless, he poured out his tale to his father. Apparently, there were nine sharpteeth after us, all scrapebiters.

"Move out!" roared Threehorn to the herd. "On the double!"

I pointed out that the herd's oldest members could not move so fast, so Mr. Longneck said that once they reached Longneck Rock, they would wait there, while the older members would travel with an escort of spikefrills and clubtails at their own slow pace. (Of course old age has different meanings for different kinds. Runners are considered old when they reach 25, while for longnecks, 100 is mere middle age. Thicknoses like me usually live to 140, but I am currently 296, which not even the oldest longneck I ever knew could match.)

After two days, we lost sight of the Longnecks, Threehorn, and most of the others. My friend Shieldback was still with me, but Spikethumb had gone with the rest. Our battles with sharpteeth were many, but none as great as the one I have described earlier which led to Pterano's defection. The scrapebiters had grown more cautious. If they failed to catch someone within ten minutes, they retreated quickly. No spikefrill could catch them, and none of the old runners cared to try.

One morning we all awoke to see a sight that scared most of us out of our wits: a huge, bloody-toothed, dead sharptooth next to three dead spikefrills--and a _deeply wounded clubtail!_

An old skyreacher longneck with a bite in his side told us the story. I reproduce it here as exactly as I can set it down.

"I's waked up by a branch fallin' on me head, see, and I sees a real big, ugly sharptooth gettin' ready to take a bite outa me mate. So I bumps him away wit' me side, and 'e takes a big bite outa _me. _So I wakes up the guard quick, and dis guy 'ere with da broke horn (here he placed his foot gently on one of the dead spikefrills) charges 'im and hits 'im like _thud_, see, an' dat blastid sharptooth kicks him 'gainst dat boulder like _slam_, see, an' da poor guy gets 'is horn broke.

Den dat blastid sharptooth cuts da poor guy open with a claw like _rip_, an' den 'e gets hit by dose guys dere, like _crunch_, an' dey gets deir horns into 'im, an' 'e roars like da blazes. Den dese guys run aways, see, and gets ready to charge again, and den dat blastid sharptooth gets ready for 'em, and when dey gets close, 'e bites one hard like _crunch_, an' kicks dis one away, den picks 'im up in 'is mouth an' drops 'im onto dat rock, like _thunk_.

Den dat clubtail hits dat blastid sharptooth on da leg, an' gets flipped over and picked up too. Clubtails is tough, and dat sharptooth breaks some teeth on da armor, and da clubtail hits 'im on the head like _thud_, and _smash_, and _crash. _Den da sharptooth roars like a earthshake, and falls down like _bam_, and da clubtail gets out from between da jaws and goes back to sleep."

We all gave a hearty cheer for the clubtail and the dead spikefrills, and then amused ourselves with telling jokes about "da blastid sharptooth."

All too soon it was time to march again. Within four days we reached Longneck Rock, the landmark which told us that one-third of the journey was over. When we got there we told the others all about our journey, and they told us about theirs. It had been much less eventful than ours, although a group of twocrest swimmers had struck out on their own. However, since they had arrived, several dinosaurs had sickened and died within a matter of days. Longnecks seemed immune to the disease, but swimmers were very hard hit, and not even clubtails were safe.


	11. Illness

**Chapter X: Illness**

Strange things were happening at Longneck Rock. The leaders had halted the journey because of the deadly disease that had struck several members. Some dinosaurs said that moving on to leave the illness behind would be best, but the Longnecks said we should stay to tend to the sick, and eventually the herd voted for their idea.

The old wounded skyreacher who had witnessed the great night battle with the sharptooth said that there was only one way to cure this illness: to eat the leaves of the lifeleaf plant which only grew on Spikefrill Peak.

Spikethumb gave me his analysis of the situation. We had to send someone four days' journey to the Thick Water, or swamp as the farwalkers call it, which was inhabited by belly-draggers, and from there another two days' journey to Spikefrill Peak, to get the lifeleaf plant. That meant that we would have to stay at Longneck Rock for twelve days at least (probably more while waiting for the sick to recuperate).

Four were chosen to go: two runners, because they were small and quick; a threehorn, for protection; and me, Robert P. Thicknose. I was old, but I dearly wanted to see a lifeleaf plant for myself, and the Longnecks eventually relented and let me go.

The four days passed without event, for food and water were plentiful on the way to the Thick Water, but once we got there things started happening.

First, one of the runners was taken by a belly-dragger as he took his morning drink. It was over before we knew it was happening.

Then we had a battle with those most despicable of sharpteeth, the thickheads. Our threehorn was too much for them, however.

Then I, Robert P. Thicknose, slipped into the Thick Water itself during a sky-water shower, and the threehorn bravely waded in and pulled me out.

During this time, as I learned afterwards, Threehorn's daughter Agatha caught the disease and died.

Finally, we won through the Thick Water and came into view of Spikefrill Peak, on the edge of a thick forest. The climate was much colder here, and terrible storms whipped through every few days.

As bad luck would have it, we were hit by one of them.


	12. Storm

**Chapter XI: Storm**

The storm started out gently enough, as an ordinary shower of sky-water.

But the amount of the sky-water gradually increased to a torrent almost as heavy as the Thundering Falls I can see as I write. We could still see the Thick Water behind us, and it was getting higher.

Then the sky-sparks came. After each blinding flash came a peal of thunder that sounded like a hundred longnecks marching in step.

A sky-spark hit a nearby log. This log was sheltered from the rain by a canopy of tall trees, and was quickly consumed by fire, which then spread to the other trees. Before long the fire had become too large to be put out by the sky-water. We ran. The runner, knowing that he could do nothing for us, darted ahead, while the brave threehorn stayed with me to support me.

As I later found out from my friends the rainbowfaces, the rest of the herd at Longneck Rock were fortunate enough not to suffer from this storm, but there was heavy sky-water. However, Threehorn was weeping for Agatha and going off into one of those moods. If he had not listened to the Longnecks, he said, he would already be at the Great Valley with Agatha still alive. He completely forgot about the scrapebiter sharpteeth that he and his group could not have fought off by themselves.

But what was that to me at that time? I was being pursued from behind by a fire, and from above by sky-sparks. As if that wasn't enough...

I heard an unmistakable roar. It was a twoclaw sharptooth, and it was after me and my threehorn friend, who for some reason or other never told me his name.

Fear gave my feet wings, and I ran faster than I ever had before. Though the threehorn was fit and running at top speed, I somehow managed to keep pace with him. Fortunately twoclaws are slow and rather stupid.

Suddenly the sharptooth tripped on a rock. A sky-spark struck a tree next to him, and it fell on top of him. Since it was a cloud-tearer (the farwalkers call it "redwood") I doubt he ever recovered.

Then the threehorn saw a cave, which we made for as fast as we could go, or even faster.

Sky-water was a regular occurrence, but I was unpleasantly surprised when other things began to fall from the sky.

These looked like rocks, but were white, cold, usually almost perfectly round, and very hard.

During this time, back at Longneck Rock, Threehorn was berating the Longnecks in full view of the herd, talking about Cera and Agatha and everything else.

Grandpa, for so he is best known to those who will read this history after I complete my circle, knew better than to argue with Threehorn when he was in this mood. All he said was, "When I was younger, I lost three children in an earthshake. Now I have lost my fourth, and become separated from my only grandchild. I understand, Mr. Threehorn. I understand."

Threehorn continued to yell and scream for a while, then, realizing that not all of the liquid on his face was sky-water, ran out of view of the herd.

"Threehorns," snorted Clubtail contemptuously.

A spiketail said, "Clubtail, did you ever lose a child?"

"No," huffed Clubtail. "I never had one. Kids are just plain trouble."

The spiketail said, "Once I was just like you. In fact, I hate to admit it, but I used to destroy my mate's eggs as soon as she wasn't looking. (Here the herd gasped.) So one day she snuck off and came back five days later.

I asked her where the egg was, but she said nothing. Not long after that she was attacked by a sharptooth. I fought that beast off, but she was mortally wounded. Before she died she kept repeating, 'yellow grass'. I didn't have any idea what she was talking about, but later I realized she must have been talking about where the egg was hidden. I wish I could make up for all of this." Then he too started to weep.

This story was told to me only recently. I realized that this must have been Spike's father. He used to watch Spike playing with his friends, then, unable to bear being reminded of that egg any longer, joined a herd of farwalking spiketails, found a new mate, and became the father of a certain Tippy.

Meanwhile, the frozen sky-rocks were pelting me and the threehorn hard. It is fortunate for the threehorns that they have solid frills, but my friend looked ludicrous with balls of frozen water stuck on all three of his horns. As for me, I am a thicknose with a holey frill, and the sky-rocks caused me great pain.

Finally we reached the cave and had to wait several hours before the storm stopped. All that was missing from it was a whirling wind, and if I had said that there I think that there would have been one. Uh-oh, I think I see the signs of one now.

_P.S. The whirling wind came and I survived to continue this history. Of course, I managed to do this by hiding in a cave._


	13. Spikefrill Peak

**Chapter XII: Spikefrill Peak**

Once the storm was over, we continued on our way, being very careful not to slip on the frozen sky-rocks that covered the ground. We found the runner waiting up ahead. He had found shelter under a large tree which, luckily for him, was still standing despite all the sky-sparks.

Meanwhile at Longneck Rock...

"We should continue on," snorted Clubtail. "The storm probably killed those fools, and we can do nothing for the sick."

"Now, now, Mr. Clubtail," said Grandpa. "We'll wait another week, and if they don't show up by then, we'll leave. Agreed?"

"Agreed," said the herd.

The three of us met with no further adventures on our way to Spikefrill Peak, but once we got to its base, our troubles started anew.

The runner, being small and light, had no trouble climbing the mountain, but threehorns and thicknoses are built for level ground, and we did not at all appreciate the showers of stones that the runner rained down on us.

While the threehorn was struggling to climb up onto the next ledge and I was pushing him from behind (I was not at all inclined to have it the other way around, for obvious reasons) the runner knocked down another stone, which hit a slightly larger one, which dislodged an even larger one, and so on, until we saw a huge boulder rolling down on us.

I noticed that the ledge I was on was relatively wide and flat, and (I am ashamed to say it) ran to the right. As I have said, I was pushing the threehorn from behind, and without my support, he tumbled down and the boulder tumbled after him.

I saw him on a lower ledge, bruised but otherwise unhurt, but the boulder seemed to be following him. I shut my eyes and reproached myself for being such a ninny. I heard the runner shout to him, "Get out of the way!" Then I heard a heavy thud.

I slowly opened my eyes and saw that the boulder had just barely missed the threehorn. But what really attracted my attention was that, if it was not my imagination, the boulder was glowing blue!

We went on our painful way up the mountain--did I mention that another storm was brewing--until the runner shouted that he had spotted a strange-looking plant with a beautiful red flower and large green leaves with sharp tips.

I cheered, for I knew it must be the lifeleaf, when the storm ruined everything. A sky-spark struck the plant, burning it to a crisp, and, though the runner looked around everywhere, he could find none like it.

We knew that there was no use in staying on the mountain, so we got down it as quickly as possible and made our way back to the herd with heavy hearts.


	14. Pterano Returns

**Chapter XIII: Pterano Returns**

I don't know if we could have handled any further adventures, and I am happy to say that there were none on our journey back to Longneck Rock.

"Look!" cried my friend Spikethumb. "There they are!"

The herd cheered, but their cheers quickly turned to groans as I told them about how the other runner met his death and how close we had come to getting the lifeleaf.

Threehorn could only groan for Agatha on hearing the news. Sean was fit as ever, but Tricia had also caught the disease.

Some of the herd members insisted on listening to my story. When I came to the bit about the boulder on Spikefrill Peak, Clubtail said, "Do you really expect us to believe _that? _You never came close to the lifeleaf plant in the first place, did you?"

"There is nothing more to do," sighed Grandpa, "so we must keep moving toward the Great Valley. We leave tomorrow when the Bright Circle rises."

But two very strange things happened during the night.

I thought I saw my friend, Altair Rainbowface, walking around handing lifeleaf leaves to the sick dinosaurs. I noticed that they glowed blue. I wasn't sure whether or not to believe it until the next morning, when I saw that they seemed to have recovered overnight.

The second thing, which was not so strange, was that I saw the form of Pterano Tallcreston come flapping through the night air, and a minute after, a longtail flyer. I thought the longtail was Ramfo, but I was later proven wrong.

Pterano landed near Threehorn and the Longnecks. I saw them open their eyes, look at Pterano who was covering his, and whisper to each other.

The next morning Vega appeared next to me. "Robert," she whispered, "Pterano's shortcut was a quick way to complete what you call the 'circle of life'." Then she told me how Pterano had led his herd to a cliff face overlooking a waterfall, how sickleclaws had attacked them, and how he had deserted them as they fought hard and either fell to the hunters or fell into the torrent below.

When I asked where Altair was, her eyes shifted as she replied, "He can't come right now."

I made my way to the front of the herd where Pterano was being verbally abused by Threehorn.

"You aren't worth your crest, Pterano," he snorted.

"Have respect when you talk to me!" screamed Pterano. "My name is Tallcreston!"

"_Where are the others?" _roared Threehorn.

"It wasn't my fault!" cried Pterano. "The fools were attacked by sharpteeth. How was I supposed to know they were there?"

"By scouting for them, of course," snorted Clubtail sarcastically from the herd.

"You coward!" roared Threehorn. "If you knew a shortcut to the Great Valley, why did you come back to us instead of going on?"

"Why, er, to warn you of course!" said Pterano.

"Warn us of what?" said Threehorn. "You know as well as anybody that we are going by the old way!"

"Silence!" shouted Mr. Longneck. He rarely shouted, but when he did, all the flyers in the trees fell out of their roosts.

"Pterano Tallcreston, you can tell us about it at the council. Mr. Threehorn, calm down."

"_Calm down!_" muttered Threehorn.

"Yes, Mr. Threehorn," said Grandma. "Calm down and go find your mate. I understand her sister was with those who followed Pterano."


	15. Council

**Chapter XIV: Council**

At noon, the elder dinosaurs of the herd formed a circle round Pterano and his pink longtail companion while the younger dinosaurs brought stones for the voting.

Threehorn bellowed out the charges against Pterano. "First, endangerment of life; second, desertion of herd members in need."

"Most inexcusable conduct!" said Mr. Longneck, and the herd murmured in assent.

"They don't like you, no?" said the longtail.

"You'll see, Rinkus," said Pterano. "It is my destiny to lead this herd. They will certainly rule in my favor."

"I hope you don't lead this herd the way you did that other one, especially with me in it," said Rinkus. "Poor Ramfo, to have his wing torn open by a sickleclaw."

"Keep your beak shut!" said Pterano, hitting Rinkus across the face with his wing.

"Do we have any witnesses?" said Grandma.

I looked around for Vega, but she had disappeared. I was sure Rinkus had seen it all, but I didn't think he liked being slapped like that.

"Who is this?" snorted Threehorn, marching down towards Rinkus. "Where are you from?"

"I'm Ramfo's brother Rinkus. You must be the stupid, impulsive threehorn Pterano told me about, yes?"

To his credit, Threehorn did not lose control this time, only muttering something about "those flyers are all alike."

"How do you plead to the first charge, Pterano?" asked Grandpa.

"Endangerment of life! Fiddlesticks!" snorted Pterano. "It was those sharpteeth who are guilty of endangerment of life."

"As Mr. Clubtail said, you should have scouted for them, or sent somebody to do that. Did you?"

"Yes," said Pterano. Almost at the same time Rinkus said, "No."

I thought I saw that cynic Clubtail smiling a little as Pterano gave Rinkus an extra-heavy wing-slap.

"Negligence!" cried Threehorn.

"It wasn't my fault they were all killed!" cried Pterano. "What was I supposed to do? Break off my wings and give them to the fools?"

"Personally, I think you should have done that," said Clubtail, while Sean Threehorn said, "Why don't you ask Sequoyah?"

"How do you plead to the second charge?" said Grandpa.

"Desertion? Ha! I was going to get help!"

"Yes, help for himself," said Rinkus under his breath, but I heard it and told the herd.

Pterano gave Rinkus a real beating this time.

"Pterano's doing himself no good," whispered Shieldback to me, and Spikethumb nodded his assent.

"Pterano Tallcreston!" said Grandpa, authority in his voice. "That will be enough. Fellow dinosaurs, you may now vote. Is Pterano guilty of endangerment of life or not?"

We voted. The verdict was "not guilty," but only by a very few votes.

"You see?" said Pterano to Rinkus, triumphantly.

"Is Pterano guilty of desertion?"

We voted again. This time, the vote was overwhelmingly "guilty."

Threehorn and the Longnecks, together with some others including me, discussed the matter of his sentence, and finally Threehorn turned towards him and pronounced the verdict.

"Pterano Tallcreston, henceforth you may no longer travel with this herd."

"Fools! You don't know what's good for you," said Pterano as he took off, Rinkus following after him.

A time of crisis had passed, and we made preparations to continue our journey towards the Great Valley.


	16. The Mountains that Burn

**Chapter XV: The Mountains That Burn**

"So," I panted as we marched along, "what's our next destination?"

"The mountains that burn," said Spikethumb. I saw him shudder as he said it.

"I wonder whatever happened to those sharpteeth that were following us," said Shieldback.

A nearby bignose explained to us that after eating a dinosaur who had just recently died of the disease which my friend Altair had been good enough to cure, one of the sharpteeth had caught the disease as well, and since then they had not attacked.

After an incident-free journey, we arrived at the infamous mountains that burn. They are a group of six "volcanoes" (as the farwalkers say) which spurt out lots of fire-water, unlike the Smoking Mountains (which are just a few miles to the west) which throw up mostly ash.

Unfortunately, we arrived just in time for a particularly bad eruption.

"Well, looks like we'll just have to wait here for a while," said Grandpa, "until the fire-water slows."

So we waited. We waited for two weeks, but the fire-water showed no signs of slowing.

Finally Threehorn decided he couldn't wait any longer. He brought the matter up the next morning, and though the two Longnecks, not to mention me, Robert P. Thicknose, wanted to keep waiting, the majority of the herd decided to risk the fire-water and journey past the burning mountains.

So we started our journey, walking slowly and carefully across the fields of black rock with their pools of fire-water.

We made it safely past five of the six, but the tallest and most dangerous was a different story.

We were all hungry and could see a forest ahead of us as we walked across the base of the volcano. Then somebody called, "Fire-water alert!" We saw a river of fire-water coming down on us, and we ran.

While we were still on the sloped area of the mountain the fire-water gained on us, but on level ground we started to put a little distance between it and us. Then we stopped for a little while to catch our breath.

Too long.

Suddenly the fire-water caught up with the rear of our herd. Yells of agony sounded as the poor dinosaurs were fried in the hot liquid. Those of us who survived kept running, the promise of refreshment now looming large in the forest ahead of us.

Once we reached the forest we spread out and started to eat. But not for long. The fire-water was still after us, a wave larger than any I had ever seen. We ran through the trees toward a very large rock. If we could climb up on it, we would be safe.

Most of us reached it in time to see the lava sweep into the trees, starting a huge fire. The lush green forest was almost completely...

gone.


	17. The Dead Forest

**Chapter XVI: The Dead Forest**

"We'll starve!" cried a runner. "It'll take us days to reach the part of the forest that's still green!"

"We must try," said Mr. Longneck. "It is no use to sit up here complaining."

"But the fire-water has not hardened yet," pointed out a widebeak swimmer.

"We'll be stuck up here for days!" cried yet another dismayed voice.

We were, indeed, stuck up there for days. Many starved to death. Flyers tried to help by searching among the dead trees for green bits and bringing them back. Some even flew to the green parts and returned a few days later with tree-stars.

One day I woke up to see a most welcome sight: the fire-water was no longer red, but ashy black. A spikefrill saw this and went down the rock. He fell through and was burned in the still-hot fire-water beneath. Mr. Longneck announced that we would wait three more days before continuing our journey. So we did.

On the third day, those of us who were still alive climbed down our big rock and marched across the black rock-field. Some of us were so hungry that we even ate the bark of the dead trees.

Another day, and we were closer, but our numbers were lower, and predatory flyers snatched some of the children who were with us.

The next day, I collapsed, thinking I could go no farther, but Shieldback and Spikethumb stayed with me and transported me across the ground, Spikethumb pulling from the front, Shieldback pushing from behind. It was uncomfortable, but I did not complain. After all, it is not pleasant to die of starvation when you can see acres of green in front of you.

Two days more and we reached the still-green part of the forest. We all cheered and tore into the green food with relish. We ate our way through the forest like swarming leaf gobblers.

Our health and spirits were wonderfully restored, and we moved on through a small valley between several tall mountains, happy and secure in the knowledge that the Great Valley was very, very close.

"Well, fellow dinosaurs, it looks like our luck has finally changed," announced Grandma from the front of the herd. She had barely finished speaking when a sickleclaw dropped down behind her.


	18. Ambush

**Chapter XVII: Ambush**

Grandma felt hot breath on her flank. She turned her head and spotted the sickleclaw. That was when it leapt for her neck. It never got there, because her faithful mate swatted it away with his tail.

But more sickleclaws kept dropping down around us. There must have been about 45 of them, a superpack.

We were surrounded.

Then we saw a strange-looking flyer in the air above us. I had never seen his species before, but he looked like a predatory flyer. He was brown with a sharp beak and no tail. When they saw him, all the sickleclaws bent down, touching their heads to the ground, then hissed or roared, whichever you like, in unison. The sound to my ears shaped itself to the word "Sierra."

"That's right, ya stupid sharpteeth! Ya better have a good hunt, 'cause I'm awful hungry, and if you don't bring no meat home, you're gonna be the meat." (Many sickleclaws understand our language, though they don't speak it.)

I was wondering how a flyer became the leader of a sickleclaw pack. Pteri Flyer, Petrie's mother, told me later: he had defeated their previous leader in a fight by using his power of flight to strike where the sickleclaw couldn't defend. As for how he ended up with Pterano and Rinkus (he didn't like having to eat merely lizards and water-breathing swimmers or being ordered around by a tallcrest), that is a long story which I do not think will ever be told.

Before I knew what was happening, all the sickleclaws had attacked at once. A runner had picked up a dagger (that is, a very sharp piece of rock) and thrown it at one of them. It passed through the sharptooth's neck and he went down.

Spikethumb and a sickleclaw were circling round each other. Spikethumb struck first, his spike opening a gash on the side of the predator's face, but the sickleclaw bit him on the leg, and he limped away to shelter in a circle of threehorns.

One of the sharpteeth leapt straight at me. He had miscalculated and hit my frill. I decided to employ a favorite tactic of the longnecks, known as "step on the sharptooth," and it worked.

But Shieldback was up against three. He knocked two away with his tail, but the third went in low and slashed his underbelly open. Shieldback's last words were "Please take care of my son Nod." Nod eventually passed into the care of Shieldback's brother.

Bignoses and swimmers and crestbacks skirmished with the sickleclaws as well, mostly using their tails, though one innovative hollowhorn snuck up behind a predator and let out a honk that made the sharptooth jump within range of a longsnout longneck's tail. It curled around the sickleclaw and crushed her.

Mrs. Threehorn was surrounded. She bellowed and pawed and then charged. One sickleclaw was gored and trampled, but the others went after her and slashed her in several areas. She was mortally wounded, and seemed to know it, but still fought hard, killing or knocking out the sickleclaws until only two were left. Her son Sean came to her side.

"Nora!" cried Threehorn. He charged towards her, but was immediately blocked by a wall of sickleclaws, while the flyer, Sierra, flew around him, every now and then striking with his sharp beak.

Sean was doing well, but suddenly Sierra saw him and flew towards him like a flash, then drove his beak into the threehorn's side. He was not mortally wounded, but the sickleclaws changed that. He drove his horns through the sharpteeth who had wounded him and his mother, then dropped dead, as did his mother.

Sierra smiled. This would be a good hunt.

Suddenly his satisfaction changed to burning pain. Grandpa Longneck's tail had just slapped him very hard in the posterior area. A skyreacher saw him flying without effort, like a shooting star, then burying his beak in a tree.

The sickleclaws saw it happen, and started to run. Threehorns and spikefrills chased after them as they retreated to their mountain strongholds.

We cheered.


	19. One for All and All for One

**Chapter XVIII: One for All and All for One**

The cheering subsided quickly when we noticed that rough old Threehorn had broken down completely over the loss of his mate and son. He cried and cried and cried some more, and, surprisingly, didn't mention longnecks once.

"Why? Why me?" he cried. "First Cera, then Agatha, now Nora and Sean, what's left to live for?" He dashed towards the rock wall at full charging speed, apparently wishing to end his own life. He was about to hit it when Tricia cried, "Dad! No!"

Threehorn skidded to a halt, reminded that he still had a daughter, and broke down in tears again.

We decided to leave the two alone, a bit surprised at the rough old threehorn needing his daughter to comfort him.

We stayed for a few days to let the injured dinosaurs' wounds heal and the bereaved dinosaurs' hearts heal. Then we continued. Green food became more plentiful as we drew ever nearer to the Great Valley.

One day a skyreacher longneck announced that she could see the Great Valley. We cheered.

Somebody had the idea of taking an oath of unity, so we did. The herd's fiftysomething remaining members all raised their right hands, or legs, and swore an oath which ended with us all shouting at the top of our voices, "ONE FOR ALL AND ALL FOR ONE!"

But sound can cause things to move, as we soon found out. After we thundered out our final pledge of unity, a boulder fell down, then another and another, until there was a perfect shower of boulders and stones. Somehow nobody was injured, but we were confronted with a wall of rock that prevented us from continuing our journey.

"Just great," I heard Spikethumb mutter.

"So close and yet so far away," echoed a twocrest swimmer.

"WE MUST GET PAST THIS ROCK WALL!" cried Mr. Longneck.


	20. Journey's End

**Chapter XIX: Journey's End**

The rock wall was twice as high as the tallest skyreacher in our herd, so many had been the rocks that had showered down in one place.

"Any ideas to remove the wall?" asked Grandpa Longneck.

"Humph," said an old longsnout. "Easy. This thing's only twice as high as a skyreacher. If we kick it hard enough, it'll come down."

Some longnecks did this, but they got nothing but bruises for their pains.

A runner clambered up to the top and looked over. The wall was pyramidal in shape and, surprisingly for a chance rockslide, not one to be easily knocked over.

We talked and talked for hours, until finally, a runner who had lost all his family on the journey walked over to the wall. "This is for you, Leaellyn!" he cried to his dead mate, then pulled with all his might at a large rock at the bottom. It came out.

The wall collapsed and we were free to continue our journey. Unfortunately, the brave runner was crushed under the rocks. We paid our last respects, then walked on.

A day later we arrived at the verdant paradise which was the Great Valley. The spiketails, with a cry of "TREESTARS!", were the first to enter. We spread out, eating and cheering and laughing.

Then we remembered the children left on the other side of the gorge.

We could only hope that they would make it as well.


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Littlefoot, Cera, Ducky, and Petrie did arrive at the Great Valley, along with a young spiketail. Ducky named him Spike, and he was adopted by Ducky's parents as one of their own. Later I, Robert P. Thicknose, became their tutor, and have taught them many things which I hope will serve them well.

Tricia Threehorn found a mate in a wandering herd of threehorns. Sometimes she visits the Great Valley with her children, Dinah and Dana.

Mr. and Mrs. Longneck are remarkably healthy for their age, and are still revered as leaders of the herd.

Threehorn has not changed at all since I met him, but is, however, very protective of Cera.

Spikethumb got an idea one day while watching the children play. He calls it "sports" and says it improves the childrens' strengths. He now coaches them in races, swimming, and various games which involve throwing rocks or fruit around.

I also invented a game. It is played on a flat rock with 64 squares scratched onto it. It involves moving small twigs from different types of trees around. The goal is to eat your opponent's cloudtearer. I call it "branches," but the younger children like to call it "branchess" or even just "chess". (At first I tried it with leaves, but even when the wind didn't blow them away, Spike showed total disregard for the rules.)

Life goes on.

_So that was the end of the narrative. But there are rumors that another block of rock with similar symbols is being unearthed not far from the site where the one featuring this tale was found._


End file.
